


Crayons Can Melt On Us

by prongsno



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Jily Challenge, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 13:19:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11669925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prongsno/pseuds/prongsno
Summary: you are drunk and rambling on about how nice the angle of my elbows are at this music festival but I can't find your friends and I've lost mine, wanna spend the rest of the night getting drunk and dancing together??





	Crayons Can Melt On Us

**Author's Note:**

> my entry for the jily challenge july! which was summer tropes.

Lily Evans blames Mary MacDonald. For everything. **  
**

It’s always Mary who’s getting her into trouble. Detentions, fights, blind dates…

But this time’s different.

This time they’re at the Leeds Festival, both completely hammered and belting out the words to One Direction’s ‘Kiss You’. She doesn’t even like them, but when Mary bought her drink number two and started spitting out the lyrics (literally the whole song, not even one word misplaced) to Outkast’s Hey Ya they somehow ended up on boy bands.

Now Mary’s arm is around her waist and they’re grasping onto their cups like it’s their life support. Lily hiccoughs and then suddenly Mary is crying.

Her boyfriend of ten months broke up with her last week. He's been cheating on her for about two weeks and she only found out because she rang his phone and, of course, who should answer but this girl who says that said boyfriend is in the shower.

“D’ya know he rang asking for my forgiveness?” Mary sobs, gulping down another drink. “That rotten scumbag had the acidity to wait no… the - the adadcity?”

“Aud-acity. ‘Sjust think of the car.”

A group of people in flower crowns walk past at this moment, each biting into a hot dog or kebab or hamburger respectively.

When was the last time she ate?

Lily’s stomach churns at the thought but she’s got no idea if that’s out of hunger or nausea. She decides to sniff the air, the crisp wonderful and gross smell of barbecue and dripping fat with a portion of chips on the side sounds… amazing.

“Y’know what I need?” Her friend’s voice rings out in her ears. It’s a faint voice compared the noise of the festival around them, but being best mates for seven years means she’s now accustomed the soft song of Mary MacDonald.

“A nice juicy hamburger?”

“That too. But also a... a toe-curling and heart palpitating snog.” Her small friend sighs with a roll of her eyes and throws her hands in the air, spilling her drink over her legs in the process. “Where are all the fit blokes? I need a distraction and all the only people we passed are flower babies.”

Mary had cried for hours after The Phone Call Incident and she eventually fell asleep on Lily's shoulder, rivers of dried mascara stuck against her red cheeks. She had spent all of the next day biting into chocolates and ripping apart marshmallows with her teeth, claiming she was going to swear off men forever.

Now Lily’s listening to Mary’s ‘Must Haves and Must Have Nots’ checklist for a bloke to snog (of course, the first check is ‘Must Not Be Named Graeme’, followed by ‘Must Have Sexy Hair That Is Grabbable During Said Snog’.

Lily wants whatever is best for her and if that’s finding some guy who’s suitable enough to snog her best friend then so help her she’s going to scour the entire length of this whole place fourteen times until she’s accomplished her quest.

“What do you want, Mary?”

“I told ya! A frickin’ hella of a snog-”

“I mean food.” Lily points to the kiosk in front of them, the guy behind the till looks at them expectantly.

“OH! Hah! Well beside the best snog of my life I guess... a double cheese burger with bacon and chips would be nice please and thank you very very much good sir.” She screams over the music and stands on her tiptoes over the counter so that the guy, whose name-badge says Peter in scrawny, delicate handwriting, can hopefully hear her.

Together they manage to just get the right amount of change, although the majority is in fifties and twenties and Peter spends the next few, agonising minutes hunched up as he counts out each coin.

When he finally says ‘Four pounds and fifty two pence’ and begins to scribble their order down on a bit of paper Mary lets out a long sigh and jiggles her right leg.

“Oh ‘ell I need to have the longest pee...did we pass any loos?”

Lily snatches a map of the festival by the counter and they spend the next few minutes trying to focus their eyes and stop the world from spinning.

“There.” Lily says after a few minutes of glaring at the map. She plops a finger on the small dot closest to them that says ‘portaloos’. “Got hand sanitiser? That’s gonna be disgusting and a hell-hole of nightmares.”

“It’s that or wet my pants and I really like these shorts. Damnit I can’t hold it in! Don’t eat my burg-er or I’ll… do something mean, kay?”

“You gonna be alright? I can come-”

Mary shakes her head and gives Lily a slobbery kiss on her cheek. “S’me remember? I’m fine.”

Exactly, Lily thinks with a snort. This is the girl who misplaces her phone, burns herself cooking because she touches the hot plate to make sure it’s hot and locks herself out of her flat because she can't find her keys.

“Do nothing I wouldn’t do right?”

Mary winks, blows Lily a hurried kiss and then flees through the crowd, her legs close together as she tries to run and hold everything in.

Lily Evans is not drunk.

This is what she tells herself as she watches her friend disappear and the world is spinning (is it the world that spins or the moon? Or is it both?) like she’s on stilts and walking down a very steep hill.

As if on instinct her legs buckle and she holds onto the ledge for support, trying to calm down but also finding it extremely hilarious that she’s unstable.

Peter calls out order number six hundred and three and plops the brown steaming bag down on the counter. It smells delicious and she's sure that's her number.

Where did she put the receipt? She's not holding it in her hands and it's not on the floor by her amazing floral wellies (she bought them on Asos for only fifteen quid, an absolute bargain) either. Panic rises up and she looks through the queue to see if the owner of the bag steps forward.

Her fingers twitch nervously against the palm of her hand.

Is this stealing? Is she a criminal if she grabs that bag and it's not hers? She did pay for one, so it's not like she's robbing the stall. And Peter looks far too busy serving the other hungry customers for her to ask if this is her number.

She's already drunk. What the heck. Juicy cheeseburger here I come, she thinks with a lick of her lips and then she's reaching out to grab the bag. She can taste the goodness and feel the delicious, meaty and hot air from the bag but then someone's hand is reaching out too and they both grab onto it at the same time.

“Oi!” She yells at the hand. “S’mine that is!” It's a very nice hand actually. She loves veins and long fingers and this hand is like the Van Gogh of all hands.

“Six hundred and three.” The hand drawls out, waving a receipt in her face. She can't focus but the numbers 603 do stand out in bold in the middle of the paper.

Her hand is still on top of his when Peter looks up to give her a glare.

“Is she trying to steal your burger?”

“Nah, don’t worry Pete.” Hands laughs. “I think she’s just hungry and wanted to get there first. Still on duty, huh?”

Peter rolls his eyes and adjusts his left sleeve, it’s just been resting in a dodgy looking puddle on the counter and he pulls it up with a grimace. “Yeah. I finish in forty. I saw Remus about ten minutes ago, high as a kite he was. Said he was going to find one of those hamster balls.”

The guy next to her laughs. He’s got a laugh that gives her goosebumps. It’s light, sweet and a very contagious trickle that could probably force even the likes of Mr Scrooge to smile.

“What about Pads?”

Now, Lily is not one to usually join in on people’s private conversations but sometimes she can’t resist it. And this is one of the very rare times where the words fall out before she’s aware of it; she blames the alcohol in her system (for once not Mary) because she usually thinks before she speaks and she has a feeling this will be a problem before the night is out.

“You have a friend named Pads? Like…”

Peter nods and says “Right, just like a dog’s padded paws-” whilst Lily, subtle as ever drawls out at the exact same moment, “Like sanitary pads?”

Two things happen at once. Hands spits out his drink whilst laughing maniacally and Peter releases a shocked and mousy gasp. It’s as if he’s offended by any menstruation terminology and his cheeks are hot with embarrassment. But Hands, she loves this guy (and his hands- did she mention that already?); he’s shrieking with laughter.

Amidst his chuckles and snorts she can just make out “brilliant!” and that’s it. This is when she realises she’s laughing too, tears are leaking down her face as she doubles over the counter. His hands are resting on her shoulders and she can feel him shaking on top of her, the distinct smell of vodka and Malibu hot on his breath.

They’re still laughing when Peter just shakes his head and walks away. She’s worried she’s offended him (but if he seriously gets offended by the mention of ‘pads’ then she’s glad to be honest) but he comes back with a new deliciously steaming hot paper bag and she’s almost forgiven him for that.

He places it on the counter in front of them, nods and then walks off to deal with the other customers.

“That one’s yours.” Her amazing new acquaintance points to the additional bag and taps her hand.

How are both his hands so beautiful? They’re like marble and feel like all things good and pure (or not so pure) when they touch her skin.

Is it just her is it hot?

He’s hot that’s for sure, even if it’s just his hands that she’s focusing on.

He grabs for his paper bag and, she doesn’t mean for this to happen but, her eyes follow his arm and soon she’s staring at the most glorious and heavenly elbow she’s ever encountered.

“Sorry about Peter,” Mr Gorgeous says, his voice only a distant echo in her mind. “He’s never um. Been so good around women before.”

Is she salivating? Wow, this is embarrassing.

“And you are?” She tries to breathe a little slower but her voice is raspy. She’s never seen anything so beautiful before. His elbows are a flipping masterpiece.

“I suppose.” She can hear his grin. But she’s seriously so lost in his arms right now.

“Elbows.”

“Yes, that’s my elbow.”

The way he’s grabbing onto the bag makes his arm look so… defined? And the only way it could look even more ethereal is if it was at a ninety degree angle. Don’t ask her why but, ever since she discovered maths the angle of ninety degrees has just been so wonderful to look at.

“‘s very nice elbones. Your bone?”

Mr. Amazing Elbows chuckles and she feels a hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

She's not. But she smiles and nods, all the while still staring transfixed at his arm. She’s got goosebumps.

“Better than ever,” she says and she’s not even joking. She’s seen the light at the end of the tunnel, as it were, and it’s this guy’s elbows. “Y’know if you move your elbow slightly you’d be perpendicular.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth she instantly regrets it. His arm is close to hers and she’s been focusing on these two freckles that are placed perfectly right near his elbow. The words had escaped without notice.

He doesn’t say anything and for a second it looks like she’s going to get away with it. That is, until he leans down (he’s actually really tall, towering above her like The Big Ben) and breaths in her ear.

She’s seeing stars.

His breath is hot against her neck and she wishes she could stay like this forever, with him by her side and her staring at his earthshaking (and Lily-shattering) elbows. Until, because the music is still deafeningly loud, he shouts out over the live band with a very vehement ‘PARDON?’.

She shouts back. “PERPENDICULAR.”

Of course, this is when the music stops and it’s eerily quiet as her one worded answer echoes out into the atmosphere. Peter sends her a funny look, as do the twenty or so people queuing up for food.

Her embarrassment lasts only a few more horrifying seconds before another song is belted out from a million microphones and speakers. It’s as if she’s never spoken; people go back to their drinking, dancing and laughing and soon it’s only Elbows whose focus is still on her.

“Um, sorry.” He says. “Perpendick? What-now?”

It’s like her tongue is on fire and the only way to stop is for her to keep talking.

Mathematics was her favourite subject in high school. She was in the top set, got an A* in her GCSEs and then went on to do further Maths in college. So, when you look at it like that, her thinking about the angle of his elbows being at forty-five degrees isn’t really that weird.

“Your elbow.” She flicks at said part of his arm, relishing at how smooth and sturdy it is. “Is almost perpendicular.”

“Is that bad?”

“S’pretty normal angle but you make it look hella fine.”

She’s glad she’s drunk because, even though sober Lily talks about mathematics, she would never use the phrase ‘hella fine’ without being sarcastic. And yet here she is.

“I… thank you?” Elbows is now holding onto his cheeseburger and she’s transfixed as he moves his arm upwards.

Then she’s looking at his face and there are no words to describe how she feels in that second.

His eyes meet hers and it’s like the theme tune of Eastenders is playing on repeat because she swears she can feel the eruption of butterflies that explode in her stomach as he gives her a smile.

He’s got hands and elbows that could make Leonardo Da Vinci sob and his face is even better? Soft, brown eyes that she could melt into and lips like roses that bloom into a smirk that’s directed just at her. Why is she only looking at his face now?

“Alright?” He’s got ketchup on the side of his cheek but she’s said too much already. So she nods and uncovers her cheeseburger. Mary’s lies in the bag still. 

How long does it take to go to the flipping bathroom?

She has no messages on her phone and if she waits any longer her food will get cold. Plus, Lily’s got Mr Amazing Elbows here to keep her company.

“Waiting for anyone in particular?” He nods towards Mary’s burger. “A boyfriend? Or girlfriend? Or-”

“Just a friend.” She’s never answered anything so fast in her life. Her cheeks are on fire. “But she’s been gone for a while. Probably snogging someone.”

He nods and bites into his burger.

“Um. So. What about you? Boyfriend? Girlfriend?”

He twiddles his thumbs and wipes at his mouth a napkin. Waiting for him to answer is the worst few seconds ever.

“Neither. I have a friend who’s somewhere here though. Probably trying to find free booze. That, or snogging someone.”

Now would be an excellent time for her to be suave and sexy, ask him if he wants to get a drink together and do some snogging of their own.

“Has seriously no one ever said to you ever how nice the angle of your elbows is?”

“Never.” He talks with his mouth open as he chews on his food, but she doesn’t care. “If they’re as good as you say they are then I’m going to have to have a long discussion with my mates about why they never mentioned it to me before.” 

“Y’should. They’re really uh nice. Really.”

He’s grinning as he wipes his left hand over his face, smearing the ketchup in the process. He’s blushing.

“Thanks, but you’re only saying that cos you’re absolutely sloshed.”

She can’t believe he just said sloshed, it’s almost as bad as hella fine.

She is not sloshed. She's just not sober.

“I bet you’ve had lots of ladies tell you how good they are.”

He bites his lip, trying his damned hardest to keep his laughter at bay. “No,” his eyes are shining and twinkling. “Just you.”

“Well. I’m glad I was the one who got to tell you how nice they are. Cos they are. Really nice.” She needs to stop before she humiliates herself further, so she bites her tongue and stares down at her burger.

She can feel his hot stare as she picks up one of her gherkins, it’s slimy and she’s never really liked the taste of them, and flicks it with her finger. It lands on Peter’s back, sliding off onto the floor and leaving a grease mark on his white t-shirt.

He’s grinning and howling again and then he’s standing, offering her his hand.

There’s a moment of hesitation, from both of them. They’re strangers, brought together by the unlikeliest of circumstances. But to hell with it, she’s always been a fan of romance. Even if they’re both tipsy.

“So, do you have a name? Or should I just keep calling you elbows in my head?” 

“James. Although I do quite like elbows. What’s yours, or should I keep calling you flower?” He nods down at her wonderful flower wellies.

She wriggles her toes, suddenly shy even though she’s been nothing but embarrassing for the past half an hour.

“Lily.”

“I like that name.”

“Do you? I hate it.”

He finishes the rest of his drink then throws the empty cup with perfect precision and aim into a bin. She stops herself from clapping and applauding like a soppy cheerleader.

“So. Since both our friends have ditched us, wanna hang out? I mean. Um. Let’s just-” He’s rambling and it makes a change since it’s been her rabbiting on about everything since she’s met him.

“Yes.”

Her answer is definite, even if her voice is wobbly.

One drink turns into five, then he’s giving her a piggy back and her hands are wrapped around his neck and shoulders whilst he cups her thighs and holds her tight.

The music is loud and booming, but it's only a hazy blur in the back of her mind. Her attention and focus is purely on one thing: him.

It’s like she’s dreamt him up. Because he’s perfect.

They dance through song after song, hands clasped together and bodies swaying close.

Even though they’re both drunk, falling over things and drinking Far Too Much… he still gives her goosebumps as he sends her a smile that she can’t help but smile back to.

A song comes on which they both despise and they both look at each other simultaneously before running off, hands entwined and contagious giggles leaving them hyper.

Then he’s trailing his fingers through her hair and she’s pulling him forward, already imagining how his lips will taste. Like a masterpiece, something that you can't help but want more of.

Her phone buzzes against her thigh and James sighs into her hair.

“Are you that happy to see me you’re vibrating, love?”

She snorts and hits his arm before checking her phone. Of course it’s Mary.

“ _Lily_!” Mary’s shrieking and laughing uncontrollably. She tries to stay focused on her friend, but James is pressed close, listening in on the phone even though Mary’s voice is booming through her speakers.

Lily doesn't mind in the slightest.

“ _You have to see what I just whatsapp’d you_.” She’s laughing and halfway through saying something else when the line dies and all Lily can make out is ‘ _Have you_ ’ before there’s a  **beep beep**  sound.

Her fingers are shaking as she goes onto said app.

Mary’s just sent her a picture of a guy sitting in the mud; a very, very handsome guy (or what she can make out anyways because he’s wearing flipping sunglasses even though it’s past eleven) in a biker leather jacket. 

He’s got a bloody nose and mud splattered all over his clothes and face and there’s an unconscious smurf lying face down next to him. And Mary’s head is poking out at the bottom of the picture, laughing along with the biker fella like two old chums having a whale of a time.

“Oh my god, that’s my friend.” James stares at the picture, unable to stop the snorts that erupt in great multitude.

“Pads?” Lily’s grinning, already sending a message that’s just ‘ _?????_ ’ to her friend. 

When James nods the two are hunched over, supporting themselves as they laugh for what seems the fifty-sixth time that night. Lily’s not really keeping count, but this guy has made her feel happier than she’s felt like a long time.

When the laughs slowly fade and they’re just left with a rather painful stitch in their right side, they’re back to where they were before. Faces close together, hurried gasps for air as they try and calm down. Jittery gazes and rosy cheeks.

It’s like time has paused, but only for them. The festival goes on around them in slow motion but the only thing that matters right there, in that moment, is the way James tucks a curl behind her ear in a cute and nervous kind of way.

He’s apprehensive and cautious as he leans in and gives her the lightest of kisses. It’s feathery and delicate, something so unlike the majority of the night they’ve just had. He’s got his eyes closed and that’s when Lily makes a quick decision.

She grabs onto his jacket, pulling her fingers through the material so he has to stumble slightly towards her. Then they’re sinking and melting into each other; hands everywhere and feet wobbling as they go deeper and deeper.

When they look again into each other’s eyes and he’s grinning and she has a toe-curling, fluttering feeling in every crevice of her body… that’s when Lily’s sure this encounter was meant to be. And that it was Mary MacDonald, in a way, who brought the two of them together.


End file.
